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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29085657">DreamSMP Shorts</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Call_Me_Apple/pseuds/Call_Me_Apple'>Call_Me_Apple</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Drabble, Drabble Collection, DreamSMP - Freeform, Episode: e005 The Masquerade, Evil Ranboo - Freeform, Gen, Immortal Philza, Immortality, Karl Jacobs-centric, Memory Loss, Phil Watson-centric (Video Blogging RPF), Possible Character Death, Ranboo Theory, Self-Sacrifice, Time Travelling Karl Jacobs, Web Series: Tales from the SMP</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 11:27:02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,801</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29085657</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Call_Me_Apple/pseuds/Call_Me_Apple</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of random short stories taking place in the DreamSMP: headcanons, AUs, theories, origin stories and more!<br/>Chapters are titled with what they're about, so you can pick and choose what you read.<br/>Contents:<br/>[1] Immortal Philza (character exploration)<br/>[2] Time Traveller Karl sacrificing himself (just angst/theory)<br/>[3] Sir Billiam &amp; Ranbutler drabble (character exploration)<br/>[4] Ranboo working with Dream willingly (theory/character exploration)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Alexis | Quackity/Karl Jacobs/Sapnap, Other Relationship Tags to Be Added, Sir Billiam &amp; Ranbutler</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>213</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Immortal Philza</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I decided to try writing short snippets to get the cogs of my writer brain going when I need them to and have a place to put random concepts into. Here's what to expect from this collection:<br/>- All events and interactions are between characters of the DreamSMP story, not the people behind them.<br/>- NO SHIPS that aren't canon to the DreamSMP storyline.<br/>- Theories, headcanons, behind the scenes character interactions, AUs. </p>
<p>Hope you enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It's a running joke, how old Philza is. </p><p>Pretty much everyone has called him 'old man' at some point or joked about dying of old age and retirement homes. Philza doesn't mind it, the younglings can have their fun. </p><p>But he does find it a little amusing that they have no idea just how old he truly is. </p><p>When anyone asks, he tells them he's 32. That's what he looks like, anyway - an average man in his thirties, nothing distinguishing about his appearance but for the pair of wings that sprout from his back. Wings that had been scorched and later clipped upon his arrival to the SMP. There is nothing to give away his true age, his face is young, unblemished by wrinkles, and there is plenty of energy in his body. </p><p>Contrary to his somewhat youthful demeanor, Philza has seen lifetimes pass and empires fall, he has led nations and lived past their decay. He’s lost many friends, lovers, families and enemies. He’s taken hundreds of calendars off the walls of his many dwellings, to the point where he stopped seeing purpose in keeping track of dates.</p><p>Philza has a strained relationship with time. He often forgets how attached mortals can be to temporary things - to places, to pets. His detachment from the material world is why to this day, he doesn’t understand his dead son’s grief over the fall of L’Manburg. L’Manburg wasn’t just a city-state, it was a cesspool of tyranny. Phil thought Ghostbur would understand that with time, but maybe in the end, he wouldn’t. Time seemed to flow very differently in others’ minds.</p><p>No wonder so many members of the SMP see him as a father figure. Compared to him, they’re all children, toddlers. When Phil thinks of them and their petty conflicts, an exasperated fondness washes over him. They all care about such petty things - discs, rulers, nations. Philza grew out of governments ages ago. He and Technoblade might have ruled an empire, but even then it could barely be called such. They were equals with shared beliefs, territory and bloodthirst, not rulers.</p><p>The Angel of Death has little interest in this world’s nations, allegiances and wars. He likes doing things that last - building massive projects that will remain for lifetimes, liberating nations, helping change someone’s life for the better. </p><p>Philza has never told anyone about his immortality. No one that is still alive, anyway. Sometimes, he wonders if Technoblade knows. The two anarchists have known each other for years, and yet Phil has always told new acquaintances he was 32. Techno must have picked up on it, together with the unrealistically abundant amount of stories that were shared with the younger anarchist. Even if he put the puzzle pieces together already, he didn’t find it necessary to share this knowledge with Phil.</p><p>The world may have given Philza only one life, but no one knows just how long his one lifetime has lasted already, how much longer it can last. </p><p>He’s content with the here and now. He has Techno to hang out with and an organisation to build. There are people here to help and many other lives to change. </p><p>And when the Angel of Death finds his demise, he will accept it with no regret. His only worry is Technoblade, who doesn’t have friends to spare. Philza has felt grief many times in his life, he knows how painful it can be, but he also knows that all wounds heal with time, and so will the wounds he leaves behind once he parts ways with this world.</p><p>Until then, he will continue helping his good friend with his anarchic pursuits. He will continue helping Ranboo move on, continue tending to the villagers and bees, continue building The Syndicate’s headquarters.</p><p>He will continue looking for ways to resurrect his fallen wayward son, so that maybe, once Philza is gone, a piece of him can live on, even if for a short stretch of time.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Karl's Sacrifice</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The choice between losing yourself and losing your loved ones is not an easy one to make, but love has always been about putting yourself before others, hasn't it?</p><p>tw//character death (?)</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This is based on <a href="https://twitter.com/Call_Me_Apple_/status/1357272708564844544?s=20">my own theory on Twitter</a></p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>After many time jumps and many hours spent roaming the halls of the Inbetween, Karl arrives at the final book, the final Knowledge, the secret to maintaining his solidity. </p><p>"As you travel through time, the flow of it tears at you with each journey, taking pieces of you to the void," the pages say. "To stop time from scratching away at your physique as you pass, you must detach yourself from reality, become a ghost, so that you are one with the flow. When you next return to your home timeline, you must cut all attachment you have to things living and nonliving. You must abandon all your loved ones and never again interfere with others' destinies. Your own destiny as a time-traveler is to preserve the past and future in the Inbetween, not to change it."</p><p>"And if you fail to do as has been said, the merciless stream of time will tear you to shreds eventually, leaving nothing but a shell of your true self behind."</p><p>Karl looks at the pages with bewilderment, unwilling to believe what was being demanded from him. </p><p>Abandon his loved ones? Never again interfere with others' destinies? That would mean giving up on Sapnap and Quackity. Karl knows what the future holds for them, the terrible images of his fiancés' demises forever imprinted in his mind. He can’t let them go, can't let them follow the path that is carved for them. </p><p>He has to save them from their terrible ends first. Maybe he'll accept the mantle of an Inbetweener, the preserver of history once his mission is done, once everyone receives their happy ending, but not now. He has put too much effort into everything to just give up now. </p><p>Resolute in his decision, Karl places the book back in its frame, stands up and lets the flow of reality take him back home.</p>
<hr/><p>Back in the main timeline, Karl continues to interfere with the natural progression of things. He prevents Quackity from succumbing to his thirst for power, he keeps Sapnap’s eruptive anger at bay so that his impulsivity doesn’t get him into trouble. He doesn’t give up on his beloveds, doesn’t give up on his friends, his world.</p><p>With time, with each jump, he becomes more and more scatter-brained and reliant on his diaries to remember his purpose. Sometimes he will look at his two beloveds and be confused as to why they treat him with such care and sympathy, until he goes through the pages of his memories and reignites the flame of love that burns in his chest for his two fiancés. He reads his own heartfelt confessions inked onto the pages and feels the passion of his past self radiate from the words, infecting the heart of his contemporary self each time.</p><p>The love he feels now isn't the same, it is but a memory of the real thing, but it still warms him whenever he thinks of Quackity and Sapnap, it still tears at his heart whenever he reminds himself of their future. He doesn’t remember what made him fall in love anymore, aside from what he reads from the diaries, he doesn’t know many things. But he knows that his old, true, holistic self cared for the two men deeply and his sole purpose is saving them, saving everyone. </p><p>Even as Karl feels more and more empty with each return, even as space-time glitches start to infest his body, even as his loved ones grow concerned about his well-being and sudden absentmindedness, the time traveler pushes through, continuing his mission. </p><p>They will understand, eventually. It will all be worth it.</p><p>How bad can it get anyway?</p>
<hr/><p>There is water on his face. </p><p>Why is there water on his face? </p><p>He opens his eyes slowly, mind swirling in dizziness. He's laying down on the ground, flat on his back, as two figures loom above. They are crying, tears stream from their bloodshot eyes and fall straight down onto his own cheeks. That explains the water, then. </p><p>"Karl," the person closest to him says with a relieved smile as they see his eyes open. "Karl, don't worry, we'll figure something out. You’ll be okay."</p><p>They don’t sound very confident. They reach for one of his hands and he follows the movement, flinching in shock as he catches sight of his own body. His composition is a mess of bright, saturated colors that shift and glitch in a way that strains on his eyes. The stranger grabs his right palm, trying to slot their fingers together, but fails as their phalanges pass right through the hand in places, violent glitches erupting all over the colorful appendage at the contact. He feels a strong buzz at the connection, but nothing more - no sense of touch, no pain, no warmth.</p><p>The stranger sobs and buries their head in his hoodie, tears quickly soaking into the cloth.<br/>
"Karl, why," they weep into his chest. "Why didn't you tell us sooner…" The other stranger puts a comforting hand on the crying person's shoulder and coos in their ear, attempting to calm them in spite of how emotionally wrecked they are themselves. </p><p>He (Who is he?) lifts his other, yet untouched arm to put it atop the head of the person bawling into his hoodie (Who are they?). Confused, yet wanting to help, he asks in a voice that is unfamiliar even to himself. </p><p>"Who's Karl?"</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Is Karl/Sapnap/Quackity canon? Oh well, I don't care coz them being in a relationship makes it SADDER and I live for the angst.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Sir Billiam & Ranbutler</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Sir Billiam may belittle and mock him, but at the end of the day, they are both servants.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Going through the #talesfromthesmpfanart hashtag and seeing fanart of Sir Billiam and Ranbutler gave me such brainrot that I decided to write semi-fluff for them. Apparently I have a weakness for villains and odd friendship because I have enjoyed writing this immensely.<br/>This is all platonic, of course. I just thought that being the acolytes of the Egg could make the relationship between Noble &amp; Servant a lot more intricate than it seems on the surface.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sir Billiam has an intricate relationship with his butler. </p>
<p>The butler was born a commoner, a peasant. He became an orphan at a very young age and spent most of his childhood alone and homeless, fighting through starvation and the dangers of the elements. In spite of those circumstances, he persevered long enough to end up on Sir Billiam's doorstep.</p>
<p>He was still a child then, hardly a teenager. Starved and weakened, he begged Sir Billiam to let him work for him in return for food and a home. Seeing an opportunity for labor with no payment, the nobleman took the orphan boy in, dressed him, warmed him and fed him until the child had enough strength to join the row of Sir Billiam's many servants. </p>
<p>He was an eager and capable worker, jumping at any task, any opportunity to be useful, infinitely grateful for the roof above his head and the scraps of food on his plate. It was pitiful, really, how little was required to make him happy.</p>
<p>The orphan boy found a special place in Sir Billiam's cold, careless heart, but even he wasn’t spared the nobleman's constant classist remarks. Just like any other servant, the boy would be plagued by off-hand comments about his class and how disgusting his presence was, however, while other helpers would sneer at their master’s insults, the boy always took it in stride.</p>
<p>He was a peculiar child, to say the least.</p>
<p>Sir Billiam watched him grow and turn from boy to man, his frail body shaping into an imposing, muscular figure, his previously round, scared eyes turning darker, his expression more mature. One thing that remained unchanged throughout the years was his unwavering loyalty and dedication to whatever role he was given.</p>
<p>So when Sir Billiam discovered It, the Egg, when looking for new property, he immediately knew who he wanted by his side as the Egg’s acolytes. He brought the nameless boy, together with another loyal servant, to the new, renovated mansion, instating them as the butlers. Before his plans could come into fruition, though, he needed to introduce his two initiates to their new master.</p>
<p>He brought the two young men into the room of the Egg, giving no warning before locking them up in one of the cages that lined the walls of the basement, letting the Blood Vines do the rest of the work. By the time he returned to check up on the new acolytes, their eyes had been tinged a deep crimson, and they had both accepted the authority of the Egg.</p>
<p>They got to work quickly, Sir Billiam hosting events that lured unsuspecting citizens into the Egg’s lair and his butlers doing the dirty work for him, taking care of the actual nourishment. </p>
<p>As time showed, not all of them were as dedicated to the Egg as it seemed, because one morning Sir Billiam woke to find one of the butlers missing. After a summit between the Egg, the remaining butler and Sir Billiam himself, the three concluded that the traitor had gone back on his commitment to the Egg and ran from the mansion.</p>
<p>Which brought the question of just how loyal the remaining servant was.</p>
<p>“Say, you would not follow that coward in betraying me, would you, Butler?” Sir Billiam questioned the man once they were out of the Egg’s room, a dagger hidden behind his back, ready to strike at the slightest hint of betrayal. He did not like getting his hands dirty, but he would not hesitate to soil his pristine noble clothes and pure skin if it meant maintaining the Egg’s safety.</p>
<p>The Butler turned to him with a look of bewilderment, surprised by the question. “You have clothed me, fed me and given me a purpose,” he said, his head tilted to the side quizzically, “why would I ever consider betraying you, sir?”</p>
<p>The servant’s eyes shone with complete honesty and innocence. He really was ready to dedicate his entire life to his noble, the fool. The idiocy brought an amused and fond smile to Sir Billiam’s face, who sheathed the dagger, not a speck of doubt towards the Butler’s loyalty left in his mind.</p>
<p>“Let us get to work, then,” he said, slapping a hand on the Butler’s back as he passed, making the man jump up in surprise. “We have a masquerade to prepare for.”</p>
<hr/>
<p>The Butler knows that on some level, Sir Billiam cares, even if he doesn't express it through words. He displays it through actions. </p>
<p>His care is in the careful movements of his hands as he wraps a bandage around the Butler's wounded arm - the aftermath of one of their… sacrifices managing to fight back, each circular motion around the limb accompanied by an insult directed at his inability to keep himself safe. </p>
<p>It is in how whenever the Butler falls to the ground during their sparring sessions, Sir Billiam's hand is always there to help him lift himself up, even if the other always complains about having to touch a dirty commoner right after. </p>
<p>It is in how Sir Billiam allows the butler to stand right beside him when they communicate with the Egg in its room, as if they were equals and not lord and servant. It is in how he stops following through on all his threats of punishment. </p>
<p>Because even though one of them is a noble who possesses riches unimaginable to the average citizen, and the other is a nameless peasant who sold his freedom in return for shelter and food, at the end of the day, they are both servants of the Egg, tied together by the Blood Vines, brothers forged in blood and sacrifice. A mutual secret, a promise binds their fates.</p>
<p>Had the circumstances been any different, they may have remained lord and servant, not friends and colleagues. Perhaps this development is just another reason for the Butler to be thankful to the Egg, and to his master for letting him join him at his side.</p>
<p>Because here, in this death mansion, he is no longer a meer butler, slave or commoner. He is part of something much, much greater. He is an acolyte, an assassin, a friend.</p>
<p>And he couldn’t be happier with what he has.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Evil Ranboo theory</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Fan: “What do you think is your character’s alignment in the alignment chart?”<br/>cc!Ranboo: “Everywhere. It depends on his stability.”<br/>A theory about how Ranboo's enderwalk might not just be a slave to Dream.</p><p>tw // dead animals, blood.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This chapter is lazier than my regular writing and very dialogue-heavy. I just wanted to get the idea out. Hope you like it either way!<br/>Take note of some serious TRIGGER WARNINGS in the summary for this one! Keep yourself safe!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Ranboo is… a little lost.</p><p>Something is off. Missing. And he doesn’t quite understand what it is. His hands are bloodied, for some reason, and there is a fog over his consciousness. It takes him a few minutes to realise that his house is awfully quiet: there is no meowing, barking or the shuffling of a rabbit to disrupt the silence. </p><p>Where did his pets go? </p><p>Ranboo scrambles for the memory of what could've happened to them. Maybe he moved them and forgot about it? He doesn't have to wonder long, because he finds their still bodies the moment he steps outside the house. </p><p>An intense, overwhelming ringing fills his ears at the sight and Ranboo crumbles to his knees, confused beyond belief. Who could've done such a thing? Who would've wanted to bring him this much pain? He crawls towards the bodies on shaking limbs. He crawls until he is right in front of the pile of death, close enough to see a piece of paper on top of it. </p><p>He stretches a single, trembling hand towards the note, his thoughts full of denial, grabs it and looks at it. </p><p>:)</p><p>"Congratulations!" Dream speaks, making Ranboo jump in surprise and horror. "You've done it."</p><p>Ranboo whirls around, expecting the imprisoned admin to suddenly show up behind him, but it's not actually Dream speaking, just his voice as usual. </p><p>"Done what?!" Ranboo yells tearfully. "Did you do this?!" </p><p>The voice huffs. "I guess, if you take into account that I'm YOU." </p><p>Ranboo feels sick on the deepest level, as if he is about to hurl his very soul. "Why would I do that? Why would I… kill my own pets…" </p><p>"Because it was the right thing to do. Because you realised the importance of attachments."</p><p>"You're lying! This can't be real. This must just be another dream," Ranboo replies defiantly. "Why would I ever-" He cuts himself short, grabbing at his hair, pulling on it until it is nearly torn out, the pain feeling all too real. "Wake up, wake up, wake up. This can't be real." </p><p>"But it is. Look at the note closely. Remember. You’ve been remembering a lot recently, haven’t you?"</p><p>In a second, Ranboo finds himself staring at the pen-drawn smile. Two dots and a curved line, such a simple image, yet one that holds so much power and importance. He looks at it and feels something itch in the back of his mind, like a beast stirring from a long slumber, excited to finally see the sun. </p><p>Memories flash in his mind - talking to Dream, plotting with Dream, following Dream’s orders. He doesn’t look like some evil, controlling mastermind in those memories. He looks like a friend.</p><p>The voice speaks up again. “I’ve been trying to help you remember the truth.”</p><p>“Which is?”</p><p>“Dream hasn’t been using you,” he hears, “you’ve been helping him willingly.”</p><p>That… can’t be real. His worst nightmare can’t be becoming reality. Dream was the villain, the cause of most harm on the server, why would he help him? Why would he help the tyrant?</p><p>“The two of you aren’t that different. You want the same thing. You want peace, you want there to be no conflict, for everyone to be friends, to be together. To be a-”</p><p>“... big, happy family.” Ranboo realises with a jolt that it wasn’t the voice that said that, but Ranboo himself spoke out loud.</p><p>"Exactly!” The voice in his head shouts, excited. Except it’s no longer Dream’s voice - it is his own, a twisted version of it playing in his head. The pitch, the timbre is his, but the intonation and the words aren’t. It sounds… rougher, angrier. Ranboo gets the distinct feeling he’s spoken that way before, but doesn’t remember when. “Your mind has been trying to piece itself together so that you’d stop tearing yourself apart helping Dream. You agree with Dream! When you’re in your other mindstate, at least... The server has seen too much chaos. It needs a guiding hand to set it straight, to bring it back onto the right path."</p><p>Somehow, Ranboo knows that the voice isn’t lying. For the first time, Ranboo is willing to accept that the voice really is him, because as he listens to it, it’s words are supplied with flashes of memories. There is just one thing Ranboo is confused about, so he asks solemnly, “but what did my pets have to do with it..?”</p><p>"Attachment is weakness, you realised it yourself,” the voice explains. “And you have to be strong, stronger than everyone, so that you can set the world straight. But it seems that there’s still a long way for you to go, if slicing up your pets was so stressful that you forgot all about it right away." </p><p>“But why would I help Dream when sleepwalking..?”</p><p>“A different state of mind can give a lot of perspective on one’s life, one’s choices. The enderwalk doesn’t have the pesky emotions to get in the way of everything, it allows you to see the world at its purest.”</p><p>“And what are you?”</p><p>“You tell me, you created me!” the voice laughs. “A bridge, a link, a manifestation of your mind trying to piece itself together. Something like that.”</p><p>There’s a lull in Ranboo’s inner monologue as he considers what he’s just learnt, just remembered. He tries to come to terms with everything, but it’s a struggle, because he’s been running away from this side of himself for so long that his instincts tell him to just pretend it isn’t real. But he can’t run, not anymore. It will catch up eventually.</p><p>“So I’ve been helping Dream… willingly.”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“And my pets were…” he interrupts himself to take in a shuddering breath, “a weakness?”</p><p>“Mhm.”</p><p>“And all along… you’ve just been… a result of my messed up mind trying to mend itself.”</p><p>“Look at you,” the voice says, smiling. “Dream would be so proud. If he wasn’t locked up, that is. But you can help him with that, can’t you?”</p><p>“I don’t… I’m not sure-”</p><p>“Take your time,” his voice tells him. “You’ve come so far already.”</p><p>And then it leaves.</p><p>Ranboo sits there, in the snow, for a long, long time, mulling over what has just happened. His mind is buzzing with thoughts and wisps of memories and it’s all a little overwhelming, together with everything else. Like the blood and the pile in front of him. He covers his eyes with his hands, painting his face crimson in the process.</p><p>He helped Dream.</p><p>Because he and Dream want the same thing.</p><p>He has been willingly helping the guy he thought he hated.</p><p>A laugh bubbles out of him, a brittle, scratchy thing. Ranboo distantly realises what an unhinged sight he must be - giggling to himself with a bloodied face above the bodies of the pets he murdered with his own two hands. He ignores the thought, continuing to laugh. Maybe he was insane, maybe he has gone off the deep end. How could he not with the constant conflict and the lack of trust on this damned server?</p><p>Maybe Dream does have a point.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This chapter was heavily inspired by our lore discussions with <a href="https://twitter.com/cyijnia">@cyijnia</a>! Though she isn't very active on Twitter, I still wanted to give her some credit :)<br/>Lore Discussion Squad supremacy!</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>If you enjoyed reading, consider leaving kudos, comments and  <a href="https://twitter.com/Call_Me_Apple_">following me on Twitter!</a><br/>And if you want to see more, subscribe to my profile on ao3!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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